Love Interest
by JusticiaBee
Summary: 2010, Fashion Week,Becks turns up, and for some reason he has his eye on Betty...This was meant to be M rated, but I decided I won't take it farther than any average Harlequin novel. If you can take that without being offended, you're Ok with this :-
1. Chapter 1

LOVE INTEREST

- Daniel Meade's office, Mr. Meade's assistant speaking, Betty answered the phone.

- You sound sexy, baby, the voice at the other end smoothed.

- Sorry? Betty tried to stay professional. She met all sorts.

- Will Daniel will be mad if you and I decide to go to bed – before he has introduced us?

- Who is this? Betty demanded to know, she tried to sound like Hillary Clinton. That usually put off the idiots.

- I'm sure you're a Stephanie, the man stubbornly insisted. – Or a Charlize…

- Try Melanie, Betty said dryly. If you can't beat them, join them for a while! – Daniel isn't in. He's at a formal concerning Fashion Week. Shall I give him a message? Who shall I say was calling?

- Beckett Scott, the voice said, he was trying to sound of age.

Of course! Becks! Betty should have recognized the voice, but it was years since she had had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Beckett Scott. He was one of the old friends of Daniel's that she wasn't sorry Daniel had lost touch with, but obviously Becks still considered himself a close mate of Daniel's. And she wasn't Daniel's keeper – she was just his PA.

- He has the same phone number?

- Yes, Betty confirmed. He couldn't fool her into repeating it to him; he either had it or he didn't.

- He doesn't answer my calls.

Betty smiled. Daniel had listened to her and switched the phone to soundless. She had reminded him it didn't look good if one of the most important guests got a phone call during one of the important dinners ahead of Fashion Week. All he had to do was show up, mingle a bit, eat and drink and smile at women – plus shake some hands, mostly male. Wasn't difficult, even he could pull it off.

- He's at a dinner, Mr. Scott, she said. They had been introduced, but he didn't remember her, and she didn't consider him a friend. Becks was a total dog if she had ever met one. He didn't have female friends. To him women were trophies, game and challenges. And that was the half of the female population that he did actually bother to see. The rest was non-existent.

- If you don't want to leave a message, Mr. Scott, she said in a cold tone, - may I suggest a text message?

- You're a star, Melanie, Becks said and blew her a kiss through the phone. – Sure you don't want to go to bed with me?

-Quite sure, Betty responded. _Not if you were the last breathing man on earth, thank you!_ –Goodbye, Mr. Scott!

-Idiot, she mimed as she cut him off.

Daniel didn't have time for distractions. Their show had challenges enough as it was this year. And she felt Daniel had developed past the stage Becks still seemed to be stuck at.

Becks was a freelance photo journalist. Quite a star, she understood. He'd photographed wars and state leaders as well as bikini models. He chose his jobs. Sometimes they resulted in him being away for months – living with locals in conflict zones. Other times he lazed at a beach on Tahiti, boozing his wits out, taking pics of skinny girls in almost no clothing. Some described him as a Hemingway of our time. As much as Betty loved to read Hemingway, she suspected he hadn't been a guy she'd immediately felt at ease with. Becks made her smile like an idiot, he made her feel she was stupid – and she never knew what he really thought, as he could talk anyone after their mouth.

She hoped Daniel would know how to deal with him.

Text message, Becks to Daniel: "Posh food?Cant talk?"

Txt , Daniel to Becks:"Nope."

Txt, Becks to Daniel: " Im back 4 Fashion Week. Bet on?"

Txt, Daniel to Becks:"U bet!"

Txt, Becks to Daniel: "U got K 4 me?"

Txt, Daniel to Becks: "K?"

Txt, Becks to Daniel: "2 Ur aptmnt I stay w U"

Txt, Daniel to Becks: "DONT touch my bed!"

Txt, Becks to Daniel: "K?"

Txt, Daniel to Becks: "Leave K w Betty"

Txt, Becks to Daniel: "??"

Txt, Daniel to Becks: "PA"

Txt, Becks to Daniel: "Melanie?"

Txt, Daniel to Becks: "My PA Betty. U drunk?"

Txt, Becks to Daniel: "Braces&glasses?"

Txt, Daniel to Becks: " "

Txt, Daniel to Betty: "Becks picks up my spare key"

Txt, Betty to Daniel: "R U sure?"

Txt, Daniel to Betty: "Yes!"

Beckett Scott hadn't changed. He stood tall and well built next to Betty's desk, desert boots, faded denim shirt, jeans that had seen better days, a suede jacket Clint Eastwood could have worn in 1980 – only a few sizes smaller. Blue eyes, dark tan, wide smile, he should have shaved 3 days ago – he looked like he was a survivor of Oceanic 815!

- Hello Melanie, he said wryly and placed his palms on Betty's desk, leaning towards her.

- Hello, Mr. Scott, she greeted and smiled. After all she was a professional. She rolled her chair backwards, escaping him. She didn't feel comfortable around so much raw testosterone.

- I'll find Daniel's key for you, she said, - he keeps it in his office, and she fled from him.

Becks wasn't a man who behaved. He didn't wait for her in her office – he followed her into Daniel's. He closed the door behind them. He followed Betty around Daniel's desk. He breathed down her neck as she opened every drawer to find the spare apartment key Daniel kept at the office. She didn't like anyone standing so close to her. She didn't like sexy men she didn't know standing so close to her. She didn't know what to do.

- Mr. Scott, she said, - if you don't step back I will have to pepper spray you!

He laughed and took a step back, pulling his brows closer. There was a glance of apprehension in those very light blue eyes.

- Smooth, Melanie, he said. – But I don't think you could hide any pepper anywhere on your body, baby.

Betty gave him a glance that usually worked in Queens. Beckett Scott was used to tougher neighborhoods, she supposed, as he continued smiling.

- No braces, he said. – And you're not Melanie. You're Betty.

- And you are Daniel's booty-chasing buddy, Becks, she said. – He doesn't have time for such foolishness this year.

- You'd rather have him chase your booty? he asked and gave her rear a thorough visual study. His mouth curled a little.

- The key. Goodbye, Mr. Scott.

Betty was glad she found what she was looking for, as she didn't really want to continue this conversation. She put the keycard on the desk, unwilling to have to touch this man who was too much of everything macho, of everything she disliked and didn't feel attracted to at all.

He took the key, still looking straight at her.

- Thank you, he said with a little bow. – You have been most helpful, Betty – Melanie. Should you change your mind regarding us spending time together, you have my phone number…

Betty didn't fully understand what he was talking about till after he had left – and she had stared a little too long at how well he filled those worn, faded jeans.

- Argh, that over confident fool! she mumbled and clenched her fists.

Luckily she was busy. Daniel's business was confusing enough to deal with any other normal Tuesday. Fashion Week was unreal. He had Junior over. Alexis had her say. Claire wanted things her way. Daniel wanted to please everybody, but he didn't quite know how to – as a result he loaded it all on Betty's desk. This year Christina presented her own fashion line as well, under the name Magic Sewing Mice, and Betty wished she'd had more time to help Christina. But her friend had to be on her own. She was lucky to have found an opening with Mode. Betty had convinced both Daniel and Alexis that Christina was a genius. Willie still was foaming with rage.

In theory Daniel was supervising everything that was on the Mode schedule, but in reality Betty did all the work. She kicked Daniel in the rear when she wanted him to show up and represent somewhere. He did that so well, looking boyish and slightly confused. He looked good; middle aged women wished he'd be their new son-in-law. After he had quit chasing models 24/7, even family magazines printed his picture without a parental warning. Daniel was slowly getting edible in almost moral communities. Betty made sure he didn't open his mouth and ruin it all. Becks had to be kept away from Daniel. He'd ruin everything they – she, had achieved.

Daniel returned from the dinner. Alas he had that glance in his eyes – that booty-chasing glance. Betty feared the worst.

- Becks been here?

- Uhum, Betty answered.

- He looked good?

Betty nodded.

- And he went?

- Out, she said. – You didn't tell me to keep tabs on him! He is probably chasing under aged models. I have already written a press release where you state that he is a friend of yours, but you didn't realize had intimate knowledge to under aged Russian girls. All you have to do is sign…

- Give the guy some slack! Daniel demanded.

It was easy for him. He didn't have to do the cover up.

- You on your way home? Betty asked suspiciously. There hadn't been anyone special in Daniel's life as of lately, but strange things happened during Fashion Week. She once had caught him kissing Hilda during Fashion Week. That was her horror scenario no 1 of them all!

- Nope, he said and smiled ear to ear. – Junior's staying with my mother. Mind you, he winked his eye, - he really would have liked to be here, mingling with the models. The Meade genes are dominant, don't you agree?

- Surroundings have influence too, I am told, Betty said dryly. – That boy so wants to be like you, Daniel. You really should be careful about what kind of father figure you present to him, which male role model you are. Daniel Junior will take after you, no matter who you choose to be, you know…

- You know what my father was like, Daniel closed up a bit.

He didn't like to talk about his father – or his childhood. Of course he loved his parents, but they had never been an A4 family. His childhood hadn't been a happy one. Betty wished she could have changed that; she would have used a magic wand like his fairy godmother, and erased everything sad in his life, but it didn't work like that. They all had to deal with whatever luggage they had been dealt with. Daniel coped – and he was 100 more decent a man than his father had ever been, but he sometimes strayed. He was about to do that now. Betty wished she could have used that magic wand and made Becks disappear. No such luck. No such magic wand.

- I'll just change to a more comfortable shirt, Daniel said, loosening his tie, - and catch up with Becks. He has challenged me again. He grinned boyishly – slash like an idiot too high on testosterone and memories of the macho, womanizing kind. – Can't have him win that dollar, can I?

- Never, Betty said with a sarcastic touch, - you wouldn't be able to eat did you lose that dollar!

Daniel didn't let sarcasms stop him.

- Don't work too long, he said, practically dancing out of the office.

Betty rolled her eyes.

- _Men_, she said.

Becks on the phone to Daniel, - Where the heck are you, my man? You can't expect me to handle all these women?

- Where are you, Becks? Daniel asked. – I've been everywhere. You have just left wherever I ask.

- I'm wading in beauties, Becks yelled, - need help her, Danny boy! Do you prefer them blonde these days? Red heads? Brunettes? All the above and then some?

Daniel could hear music and women laughing behind Becks' voice.

- I'm literally swimming in them, Meade. Hot tub, bubbles and babes. Get over, my man. It's a private, little party at…

The line cracked and died. Annoying, but Daniel wasn't lost for company. Everybody knew his name. He didn't have to dive into any hot tub to enter this year's competition with Becks. Fashion Week had barely begun. The competition was on. He had many chances to beat Becks, but considering he was a bit rusty at this, he needed the exercise before he went into the battle, shoulder to shoulder with Beckett. Betty didn't approve, of course, but Betty didn't understand his friendship with Becks. She didn't understand the world they came from, the past they shared. She didn't understand that he had to win over Becks.

He smiled to the pretty red head. She was just Beck's type.

- You ever been on the cover of Sports Illustrated? Daniel asked as he placed himself next to her. It was almost too easy.

Betty's mobile rang. She stretched and almost fell out of the bath tub, but did manage to reach the phone. It had to be Daniel. He probably needed help to get a taxi. Or he had found a new model – one he'd promised a cover or a full underwear shoot or some sweet darling had robbed him of all his money. All had happened in a not so distant past. Betty wouldn't be surprised, no matter what he said.

- They key doesn't fit! a voice mumbled as she answered. – The bloody door doesn't even take a key card. And Daniel has switched off his phone…

- Becks? Betty asked. – This is you?

- Of course it is me, Melanie, he replied, drunk and irritated. – It's the wrong door, Melanie. I'm trying to unlock it, and it can't be unlocked. You have given me the wrong key, Melanie. Is this some kind of joke? Is this your rev- rev – revenge? Make sure no gorgeous woman get a piece of Becks? He laughed at his own wit.

- Where are you? Betty asked – she acted much more patiently than she felt.

- Outside Daniel's apartment, Becks said in the loud, stubborn tone drunk people often used. – I'm about to break in.

- Don't! Daniel probably hasn't come home yet. He went looking for you.

- The dog never found me. Becks howled like a blood hound. Or a hyena. – You should have given me a key, Melanie hunny, not a key card… I demand you come here with the right key. I need to sleep. You wanna sleep with me, Melanie?

- Try the key again, she suggested. He probably was so drunk he didn't find the lock with the key card.

- The door needs a key, not a key card, he insisted. – I'm bloody standing here at 6767 West End Avenue, outside Daniel's apartment, and the door needs a key, not a key card!

- You're at West End Avenue? Betty asked.

- I'm telling you!

- Daniel has moved, she said and climbed out of the bath tub. She was afraid she had to work magic, doing some damage control. Becks – a very drunk and übermacho and angry Beckett Scott, at this very moment stood talking loud outside Daniel's old flat. He was about to break in the door. He must have scared quite some of the neighbors already. She was afraid they had called the police by now. He was a jerk, but he was Daniel's friend. If he ended up in the goz columns for this behavior, he'd be referred to as Daniel's friend.

- What?

- Keep it low, she begged. – Daniel has moved. Will you please leave the building, Becks. I'll come pick you up in – say 15?

- Wrong house?

- Wrong house, she confirmed and cut him off.

She dialed Daniel's number before even reaching for the towel. Becks was right – Daniel had switched off his phone. She couldn't remember when that last had happened. He must have met someone really special. Bad habits die hard. She dialed her taxi service.

- Melanie! Becks greeted her with a broad smile. Surprisingly he was alone. Betty had figured he would have some doll on his arm. He opened his arms to embrace her, but Betty avoided that.

- He isn't puking in the car, the taxi driver said. – He throws up, you pay extra – and I throw you out of the car!

- Hey man! Becks walked up to the car, he stared at the driver. – You know who you're talking to? I'm Beckett Scott, you moron. Beckett Scott!

- He doesn't have guns? the driver asked. – I don't drive people who wear guns…

Betty smoothed things, - He doesn't wear a gun. He's really harmless. He won't get sick. Mr. Beckett Scott doesn't get sick. She turned to Becks and spoke to him like she would have spoken to an 8-year old who didn't want to eat vegetables.

- Clam up. I left a hot bath to pick you up, and if you irritate me, I won't hesitate to leave you here. Behave!

- Oops, he laughed and pretended to be scared. – Fierce woman! He fell into the backseat of the car, and Betty slammed the door. He barely managed to swing his legs inside before the door hit the frame.

Betty didn't much like to sit next to him, but the driver didn't want her next to him. Becks was almost asleep in the backseat, eyelids very heavy, but he still tried to smile his well known seducing smile.

- You look swell when you're angry, Melanie, he said.

- Thanks. You look a moron when you're drunk, Betty responded.

- Where to? the taxi driver asked.

Betty thought quickly. Daniel obviously wasn't home. Or he was home – and not alone. And no way she was walking into his apartment when he was – entertaining the kind of women that let themselves be picked up for a night of – entertainment by men like Daniel, or Becks for that matter. That would be fully embarrassing for them both. And Becks was so drunk she didn't have the heart to dump him off at some hotel. He was so drunk he wasn't really a threat to any woman below 70, unless she was on crouches. And she did have pepper spray.

She gave the taxi driver her own address.

He was able to walk – barely. And there was a lift in her building.

- You taking me home, Melanie? Becks asked when he realized the apartment she had lead him to absolutely couldn't be Daniel's. The interior gave her away. He leaned towards the wall, he had to or he'd fall over.

- You can sleep on the couch, Betty said, - you're here because I feel sorry for you. Don't think I think you're irresistible.

- You think I am irr… sist'ble, he said, convinced he was right. – You lust for me, Melanie. Course you do…

He tried to give her that glance women around the world had stumbled and fallen for – for almost 35 years. He'd been adorable even as a baby – he had his mother's stories and stacks of albums with photos to prove him right and rightfully irresistible. His mother's constant photographing him had lead to his love of photography. He had a lot to thank his big, blue eyes!

- I think you're a pain in the bum, Betty said, getting out of her coat. She pointed at the couch. – I'll find a blanket for you. Bathroom is to the left, if you puke on my floor, I might throw you out too…

He smiled, no matter what she said.

- Do I scare you, Melanie? I'm not dangerous. I can be real friendly…

- You don't scare me, Becks, Betty said, and tried to ignore him. – And it's Betty, not Melanie…

- I could be real loving, Betty, he insisted and made a step towards her. He swayed. – I could be your love interest, Betty…

She rolled her eyes. Love interest? Yeah right! Where did men like Becks get such ideas?

- Bathroom to the left, she repeated and opened a closet to find a blanket for him. – Don't fall into the tub.

He had obviously found the door when she turned to make the couch as comfortable as it could be for a person Becks' size. It was only a 2 seat, and he'd have to curl up, but considering the state he was in, we wouldn't notice till tomorrow when his muscles started to ache. A suitable punishment, Betty thought.

Her doorbell buzzed. She answered.

- It's Daniel, the voice said. – Can I sleep on your couch, Betty?

- Daniel – urhm, Betty said, slightly confused – then she felt relieved. Daniel could take Becks home.

- Open the door, Betty, he pleaded.

She buzzed it open. A minute later he was on her floor. He looked a bit ragged, but he was nowhere near the state Becks was in.

- Thank you, Betty, he said, - I know it's silly, but I just couldn't go home. The thought of Becks there with some woman… or women, more likely. Most likely in my bed – I just couldn't go home to face that. I'll ask him to find a hotel tomorrow. He'll have to understand – I'm just not that man anymore. It wasn't even fun…

Daniel noticed Betty's still damp hair. – I'm sorry – you were in the bath…

Betty opened her mouth to answer, when a loud voice came from her bedroom. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

- Betty baby, I'm waiting for you!

Daniel stared at Betty. He recognized the voice. Of course he did! He stared at the not fully closed bedroom door. Betty hadn't noticed – she had thought Becks went to the bathroom. He had chosen the wrong door – it was a mistake. She could explain. She opened her mouth to do so…

- I'm very impatient, Betty, Becks called.

Daniel crossed the living room and opened the door to Betty's bedroom. A butt naked Becks lay spread out in an inviting position over her bed.


	2. Chapter 2

- Get dressed, Daniel said and turned his back to his old mate. He'd never sobered up this quickly, and he was so mad he could barely speak.

-This is not what it looks like, Betty said from the other side of the door, her voice trembling.

For a second Daniel hadn't been sure. He knew Becks all too well. Becks was a dog. For a second he believed Betty had fallen for the crap Becks was stuffed with and would easily bless any woman with. For a second he did believe Betty wanted Becks right where he was; drunk, naked and horny in her bed.

That feeling almost killed him.

- Get dressed now, Beckett, he said so calm he scared himself, - and we're outta here!

Becks didn't take him seriously.

- No need to get angry, he laughed. – Betty isn't angry. He called to her, - You're not angry, Betty?

There was no answer.

Becks struggled hard to get his socks on. It was always easier to undress than to get dressed. Had been so all his life.

- Betty brought me here, he explained to Daniel. – I didn't break in. Didn't break into your place neither. You changed locks, Daniel? Key didn't fit. So Betty brought me here. She felt real lucky. Voice louder, - You felt real lucky, didn't you, Betty? You and me, Betty…

- You brought him here? Daniel asked through the door. – You brought that idiot here?

- Your phone is off, Betty defended herself. – And he was outside your old flat, disturbing the neighbors. What should I do?

Daniel couldn't stay angry with her. Betty had done what Betty would do – she had used her Betty logics, and Becks had ended here. She hadn't foreseen Beckett's ways. She still was innocent when it came to real life and men of the world, men like him and Becks. She had only dated the nice guys – and they had all understood she was – something else. Precious in her own way. They had respected her. Becks didn't see her as she was. Becks saw… Daniel didn't understand what Becks saw when looking at Betty. She wasn't Beckett's kind of woman. She wasn't his average catch.

- You should have let the cops fetch him, was he disturbing anyone, Daniel said – meaning every word. – He could have sobered up in jail. He has slept worse places…

Becks laughed behind him.

- I'm decent, Daniel, you prude!

Daniel turned. Becks was dressed. Sort of. Shirt wasn't buttoned, he hadn't tied his boots, jacket over his shoulder, but the smile was broad as could be. No shame to be detected in his face.

- You couldn't be decent if you tried, Daniel said, still fuming, but he wouldn't embarrass Betty further. He'd tell Becks exactly what he thought when she couldn't hear them. – You apologize to Betty, he said. His angry glance underlined how serious he was.

- Ok, Ok, no need to be mean! Becks lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. - Just a little misunderstanding, Danny.

Becks strolled out of Betty's bedroom.

She could only guess what had happened there, and she felt awkward. Becks' open shirt gave an indication, and her cheeks burned. Daniel followed a step behind Becks. He had problems looking at her, and she could understand why. This was a wish-the-floor-would-open-moment.

- I never – invited him for – that, she tried to explain. It was hard to breathe, but she wanted Daniel to know for sure that she really truly honestly had not invited Becks over for purposes that were indecent. She had felt sorry for him. That was all.

- I'm sorry you didn't get to see me naked, Betty, Becks grinned and came so close that he managed to place a light kiss on her lips before Daniel pulled him away.

- You idiot! Daniel called his friend and steered him in direction of the door. He glanced unhappily at Betty over his shoulder, - I apologize. He won't be able to harass you again.

She nodded, embracing herself. She'd live.

- And I'd wash that bedspread… Daniel added just as he closed the door behind them.

Betty shivered.

What did Daniel think of her? How stupid and naïve did he think she was? Nothing had happened, but she still felt filthy. There was no logic in that. She needed a long hot bath – again. But first tear that bedspread off her bed.

She wished her imagination wasn't so fully developed. She could picture what had met Daniel's eyes when he found Becks in her bedroom, and as the vivid picture was in her imagination, it didn't help at all to close her eyes. She tore off all sheets from her bed – she'd boil them all.

Daniel didn't say a word to Becks in the taxi on the way to his new – as of last year, apartment. Becks did try to start a conversation, but got no response. Daniel didn't want anyone else to hear what he had to say to Becks. It could become ugly.

- You undress in Betty's bedroom, Daniel said once between his own walls. – What the hell was that about?

- She would have moaned with pleasure by now, hadn't you turned up, Becks stated and fell into Daniel's black leather sofa. – She would have mewed and moaned, my man! Big, wide, confident smile.

Daniel wanted to place his fist into that smile.

- You – don't – go – near – Betty! Daniel said, pointing his finger at Becks. – You read me?

- Relax! Nothing happened. And you know fair well she wouldn't have complained to you had something happened. Again Becks smiled. – I wasn't planning on marrying her. She'd still be your PA tomorrow.

He folded his hands behind his neck.

- And you must admit that would have been a win you would never have been able to top, Danny boy. Bedding your PA means I would have won this year.

Daniel couldn't restrain himself anymore. He leached out and punched Becks right there in that smirk. And he realized the insanity the moment his knuckles hit Beck's jaw. That was too late. Becks didn't let anyone hit him without hitting back.

- You can afford to redecorate, Becks said afterwards, looking one eye only over the damages they have caught. He pushed a raw steak to his other eye.

- Didn't like the glass table anyway. Daniel held the bag of peas to his right eye.

- Lamps didn't suit anything else. You had Alexis decorate? She didn't have much taste for interior when she was a man, and getting boobs obviously didn't help.

- I bought furnished, Daniel admitted.

Becks grinned. – You still have a punch.

- Stay away from Betty, Daniel said.

- I might be thick skulled, Becks smiled, - but I get that.

- She is my PA, for heaven's sake. It's like she was my sister. You wouldn't have made a pass at my sister.

- Not the one you are blessed with, Becks grinned. – Done that, remember?

- You know what I mean, Daniel said. – You wouldn't have dared make a pass at any real sister of mine.

- You slept with my sister, Becks reminded him.

- I didn't think you knew!

- She told me last year, Becks said. – Too late to teach you a lesson 15 years after the deed was done. No hard feelings. You'll have a priceless shiner tomorrow. I hope you don't have any more public gatherings?

Daniel grimaced.

- Betty will kill me, he sighed.

- I'd protect you against her, but you won't let me go near her.

- I'll live.

- Shades, Becks suggested. –It works for Karl Lagerfeld. They'll think you're his illegitimate love child. And the bet is still on.

- I think I'm too old for that bet, Daniel said.

- Daniel Meade is too old for models? Beckett raised his brows. – 35 and already dead? Heck, put on those sunglasses and they won't think you're Karl Lagerfeld's love child – they'll think you're his older, uglier twin!

- You're living the same sort of life you have always lived, Daniel said, hoping he'd make Becks understand. – But my life has changed. My father died. I have responsibilities now. I have a business to run. I have a son. I can't be the same reckless womanizer I used to be. I don't even want to be that guy.

- You don't want to sleep with models? Becks didn't believe his ears. – Will the real Daniel Meade stand up!

- Models, women … Daniel shrugged his shoulders. – I'm past that.

- You're past having sex? Call Mulder and Scully! I have a real alien trapped down.

- I still have sex, of course I do, Daniel stuttered. – But I think I'm getting ready for a real relationship. Not just the one night stands. Not the sex for the sex.

- You are ready for exchanging sex with many gorgeous women for sex with one woman the rest of your life?

Becks forgot to hold the steak to his eye. It was swelling and blackening.

- Well – yeah, Daniel nodded.

- The M-word? Becks asked in horror.

Daniel actually smiled.

- Marriage doesn't sound frightening, he admitted.

Becks frowned.

- You said the M-word. You actually mean it?

- Yeah, but that's still in the future. I won't buy an engagement ring tomorrow. I haven't met anyone to pop the question to. And I'm not looking. But one day I'll find her. And I know it's her, right? The one who's for me. Someone I can trust and turn to and just be – me along. Someone I don't have to impress.

Becks listened in naked disbelief.

- Tonight I realized picking up women in bars isn't doing anything for me. I got bored, Daniel said. - I got bored! he repeated.

Beckett Scott could only see his old mate with one eye, but he saw him clearer than Daniel saw himself. People never realized what was right under their noses. Daniel was no exception. Everything turned very clear for Becks. He hadn't asked why Daniel appeared at that little Betty's doorstep, and now he didn't have to.

Daniel was seriously smitten, but he didn't recognize the feeling. He thought he was just protecting the girl – out of brotherly care, or however he explained it. As long as Daniel didn't admit to what was going on, there was still hope. Becks figured he could still save Daniel and give him a few more happy years before the M-trap locked around his ankles.

He had promised Daniel to stay clear of Betty, but that promise wasn't valid anymore. They were after all talking about saving a soul here. Daniel was like a brother to him. He couldn't let him turn middle aged so young.

He would sweep that Betty mouse off her feet and prove to Daniel that she might look different from the models, but deep down she was just like any other woman. And Daniel would get rid of that silly infatuation and maybe win next year's bet.


	3. Chapter 3

- I probably should apologize to Betty, Becks told the espresso machine in Daniel's apartment the next morning. Becks had sobered up, but he was still somewhat rugged, and he recalled he and Daniel weren't on speaking terms – hence the one way conversation with the coffee machine.

– But old Mr. Meade here won't let me go near her.

- Send her flowers, Daniel suggested over his espresso. It was the only decent way to wake up in the morning. The espresso machine was a Christmas present from his mother. For his birthday she'd come up with a matching toaster. Daniel sensed a pattern there. His dear old Mom (would she hate that description!) wanted him to go domestic. She wanted multiple grandchildren. She had dreams of him settled with a wife. She wanted family portraits to cover the piano she never used for musical purposes.

– No need to go near her, Daniel added.

Becks grinned and rolled his eyes. He saw his own reflection in the steel. Not a bad picture.

- Betty has any favorite flowers?

Daniel had no idea.

- Roses have always worked for you, haven't they?

-Roses work wonders with women – always.

Beckett smirked at his own image.

Daniel wanted to warn Betty, but figured she would hate it. He frequently was guilty of trying to protect her, and she had bluntly, on several occasions, told him she needed no big brother. His assistant was a modern, independent woman – he on the other side, had a couple of old fashioned opinions. He couldn't help it. He was brought up to believe a man should protect the women of his life. The harsh reality of his childhood and adult life hadn't always showed that in practice, but Daniel believed that was the ideal, how things should be. He wanted to protect his mother, but she was too strong and active to need him shielding her. Alexis – well, Alexis was Alexis. She didn't need a kid brother to fight her battles. Alexis had knuckles and she wasn't afraid to use them. More girls should have been born boys, Daniel thought with a wry smile. He admitted he would like to be a knight in shining armor from time to time. Primitive – yeah, maybe. Man hadn't changed all that much since they lived in caves. Every man wanted to be a hero for his women. There were no other women in Daniel's life but his mother, sister – and Betty.

Sure Betty wanted to be seen as strong and competent, and she was - but Daniel knew other sides of her. Everybody needed someone who could support them and make them stronger. Everybody needed someone caring and wonderful to snuggle up close to in the couch. Not that he intended to be that man – Betty needed a true, stable and honest guy who saw her as the precious gem she was. Betty needed someone to lean on to, and till that decent guy, her Mr.Right, came along, he intended to do his best to protect her – to be her big brother. 100 discretion guaranteed. No need to tell her he was looking out for her.

Betty had looked up some articles Becks had done for National Geographic. Her next door neighbor was the kind of guy who subscribed. She was thoroughly puzzled. It amazed her that someone so irresponsible and obnoxious and truly annoying could write about Asian villages that had been swept away by cyclones and make her feel she knew the survivors. His photos were stunning. They touched her deeper than the words, which was strange, as she was a verbal person.

She couldn't explain why she even wanted to see this other side of the rude, superficial horndog. It had been a mere impulse – and what she learned about Beckett Scott, the photojournalist, confused her. She could easily loathe him if she only thought of that drunken, self obsessed jerk who'd taken for granted that she'd merrily jump into bed with him and thank him afterwards. It was way harder to despise the man who with sensitivity portrayed people the world had forgotten, who acknowledged their dignity and made the rest of the world see they were human beings – not just faceless numbers, not just victims of a disaster that struck so far away from the vain western civilization that it was regarded to have no importance.

Becks did more than press the button of his camera – he created, he captured the souls of people and places. Even his words were art. They were more than journalism – he chose his words carefully, he was no fan of adjectives, yet he drew clear images. His text matched the photos. They made a whole. To Betty's eyes that was art. Beckett's articles and photographs together was some sort of poetry. He wrote better than she did. That annoyed her. She kept trying to find her own voice when writing, and she knew how hard it was to be genuine and accurate and honest. This supposedly shallow guy made it look so easy.

Betty didn't want to like him. She didn't like him. Becks was everything she loathed in a man, but she liked his work. She wanted to see more of it. But no one could know! Daniel couldn't find out. He'd tell Becks. Becks couldn't know. They'd think all the silly thoughts men thought when a woman wanted to know more about a man. They'd believe she had a thing for Becks.

Ha ha! As if!

She wouldn't have touched him with a burning pole had he been the last man on earth.

Besides she didn't have time for men. She didn't have time for romance. And she sure didn't have time for true love. She was a dedicated career woman. She had made a 5 year plan which she followed strictly. Love wasn't on that schedule.

Two dozen roses waited for Betty in her office. Champagne roses. Amanda circled Betty's desk trying to get a sneak peak of the card. Betty was surprised Amanda hadn't torn the envelope open to find out who the sender was.

- Soooo, our Betty has a secret romance? A secret admirer?

Amanda touched one of the roses in resentment.

- Tell him to send you red roses next time. These remind me of my granny's funeral.

Betty was used to Amanda's comments. She didn't let the nosey receptionist anywhere near the card.

"_Respectfully, Beckett S"_ it read.

Betty blushed, and she hid the card in her cardigan pocket. This was Becks' idea of an apology, and she was close to accepting it. He didn't assume she was a bimbo by sending her red roses. He obviously understood she would have thrown them in the garbage. Red roses were such a cliché. These, on the other hand, were sophisticated.

She almost kicked herself. Sophisticated and Becks didn't go well together at all. But then she was reputed for mismatching. She still thought fuchsia and orange was a cool combination. Not that she'd ever allow Becks to drape her – no matter how sophisticated he would pretend he was.

OK, Becks had sobered. He had remembered enough to be ashamed. And he had apologized. Alternatively Becks had somewhat sobered, Daniel had told him what he had done, Becks had apologized. Alternative three: Becks didn't care. Daniel had sent the flowers, pretending they were from Becks.

Contemplating the alternatives, Betty looked at the flowers – and ruled out the alternative that involved Daniel ordering the flowers. Daniel didn't know how to order flowers. She ordered all the flowers Daniel ever sent to his female acquaintances (read: women he bedded). Should Daniel ever find it in his heart to send her flowers, he'd tell her, "_Betty, order a dozen long stemmed roses sent_ _to_ _your address!"_ He wouldn't even blink.

Becks had sent her roses.

Betty drew a deep breath before opening her mailbox. This day had already had its interesting high point. Nothing would lift her brows after this.

Respectfully!

Daniel didn't comment the flowers when he walked in, his usual half hour too late. Betty didn't comment his not commenting them. As she followed into his office, he stuttered and tried to say he was sorry on behalf of Becks, but Betty stopped him before he seriously embarrassed them both.

- You have done nothing to be ashamed about, she said. – I take it your guest is still among the living?

Daniel sighed.

- You don't have to worry about him anymore, Betty. He has contacts – I can't stop him from being here. But he won't repeat last night. Take my word for that!

His jaws were sharp, his back very straight. He didn't offer her any insight to what was going on.

Betty didn't ask.

She accidentally bumped into Becks when trying to reach Christina for lunch. As it turned out her best friend had had to cancel. One of her models apparently had collapsed. The text message read _"kid in coma_ _aftr champ&coke diet parameds say shell live must find new skinny gal c u latr luv" _

- Anyone stood you up?

Betty froze. And in a split second decided she was big enough and pretty enough to deal with the Becks' of this world.

- Not really.

She gave him a smile and saw he had made an effort this day. Suit and tie. One of Daniel's ties. She knew as she had bought it as a Christmas present for him. He had worn it twice, but someone had said the ice blue color didn't so much for his eyes. The shade was just right for Becks, even Betty noticed that much.

- Thank you for the flowers, she said and kept it formal. – But there was no need…

- There was a need, Beckett insisted and narrowed his eyes. The effect was stunning. He bent his neck and looked like a little boy who had unintentionally smashed a window while playing ball.

- I am sorry for last night, Betty.

_Betty_. He remembered her real name. The way he pronounced it sent chills down Betty's spine. It reminded her of – someone else. She didn't follow the thought. Too painful. Too bittersweet. Too long ago.

- There is no excuse for my behavior. Would you still consider forgiving me? And forgetting the whole embarrassing episode?

- It's already forgotten, she stated – not quite truthfully. It simply seemed like the quickest way to escape him.

- And forgiven?

He did have a smile that would weaken knees. Good she had strong bones and stable joints.

- Forgotten and forgiven!

He laughed – and Betty realized what she had just said.

- I always relied on my ability to make an impression, Becks confessed as he bent towards her. She could smell his breath. Mint. Daniel's mouth water. She had recommended it. Her dad used the same.

- Any chance you would accept a lunch date here and now, Betty? To prove you truly have forgotten – and forgiven?

She couldn't say no without being impolite. She had to eat. They were standing next to the restaurant where she should have met Christina. He would believe she was avoiding him did she say no.

Betty had to practice her saying-no-skills.

She accepted. She said yes.

- You read poetry?

Betty almost fell off her chair. She giggled in astonishment. Becks _("Call me Beckett – Becks…he's who my mates see. Beckett – is the one my mother knows…") _had surprised her from the moment he drew out the chair for her. He had convinced her oysters were just the right lunch to gain strength for a busy working day that no way would end this side of 11 pm.

- No champagne! Betty insisted, showing him she wasn't the helium headed beauties he could impress with bubbles. She wasn't going to go tipsy and fall for whatever crap he had to offer.

- On New Zealand oysters are – fast food, he told her matter-of-factly. – Given the right season, of course. They watch TV on a regular Friday night, swallowing down oysters with beer. Want to be adventurous and have oysters the Kiwi way, Betty?

Beer seemed a whole lot safer than bubbles. Didn't taste bad neither.

She confessed she had looked at some of his works. He asked which. She told him. He asked if she liked it. She said yes.

- Why?

Betty told him why.

- Anything you didn't like?

She wouldn't have dared say it to his face hadn't it been for the beer. It was after all alcohol and had the same effect as champagne. Sooner or later.

- You get – very close. It feels very intimate. Like I'm looking where I shouldn't have been looking. Like I'm an intruder. Like- it's some reality show, only they can't return home to a comfortable couch once the camera's switched off. They live there. It's their today and tomorrow. You visit and you leave. 

- But you feel something has changed after you got these glimpses of their lives?

Betty nodded. He showed a serious face.

- Of course I go too close. Of course it's intimate. Of course the balance isn't right. I know which emotions I stir. They don't have a clue. But I feel their stories need to be told. They can tell us something about living, about being human. Their fates, their existence tell not only stories about them – we see ourselves as we are through the insight we get in their lives. You follow me?

It wasn't the beer. It had nothing to do with the oysters or the intimate lightning in the restaurant. Betty simply connected with Beckett. What he said made sense. She actually respected him in that moment.

- Why don't you only do this – proper work? It just fell out of her mouth. – Why do you waste your talent on bikini calendars?

His laughter was of the toe curling kind – even when he didn't try to push a reaction.

- But I love women! Easy money. I'm lazy. Easiest hunting fields ever invented.

She was disappointed and it showed.

Becks folded his hands around the beer glass. His eyes fixed on hers.

-This gets too hard to do always. You said it – it's intimate. You get under their skin. I leave – but I carry them with me for a long time after I have left. I live with most of them before I take a single photograph. I know them. You don't forget people you know as easily as you snap your fingers, do you, Betty?

She didn't.

- Some of them I never forget, he confessed low voiced.

- Do you have any other secrets? she asked.

- I read poetry.

He liked Lord Byron.

- I'm sorry, but I don't really know him. It's Shakespeare, of course, Betty said. She'd never imagined that Becks should prove to be more of an intellectual than she was. Prejudice never looked good on anyone. This was a lesson for her.

- Oh – but you must read him!

He recited Lord Byron, and Betty fell for the mere rhythm of the verses, not totally following the words. Becks had a lovely voice. She wasn't the first woman he had impressed with his poetry act. She understood that much, but she still was blown out of her socks. It could be time to kick off the socks totally. More people than Hilda and Justin had told her that no woman past 12 ¾ should wear socks with skirts.

Totally against her intentions she warmed to him. He treated her like a person – not like a woman. Usually that wouldn't have been good, but considering who he was, Betty loved it. Neither did he treat her like a mutant in the beauty world – as he had on previous occasions.

He kissed her cheek gently as they parted, but he didn't offer to walk her back to Mode.

Betty liked that too.

She arrived at her desk at the exact same minute as the courier who made her sign for a slim envelope addressed to her.

It was a pocket book, a selection of Lord Byron's poetry.

"Thanks for the first intelligent conversation I have had in NY this week", he had scribbled on the inside cover, then adding a Lord Byron quote.

"_I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion, and that there is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides who would ever shave themselves in such a state?"_

Betty couldn't help giggling. Intelligent humor! Who would have believed the shallow womanizer to have such depths? Becks had proven to be a real devil in disguise!

- Fun lunch with Christina? Daniel asked.

Betty hid the book under her desk.

- Something like that, yes, she replied. – You had anything to eat? You should, you don't think clearly when your blood sugar go too low. I can fix you a Snickers or something. They aren't all bad, you know, there are peanuts, and peanuts are good for you…

She was babbling, and they both knew she was babbling when she had told a lie.

- Should have met up with Becks, Daniel said, - but he never showed up. Must have met some woman. You can always trust Becks to hook up with some woman and forget everything else. It's just in his nature.

Betty nodded.

- Guess you're right. His nature. Completely. You sure you don't want a Snickers?

Becks would have loved to see Betty's face when she opened the collection of poetry. Most other women wouldn't have been impressed by a simple paperback, but Betty wasn't into the wrapping. The words were the same, no matter which cover they were clad in. She had liked his reciting the poems. Becks wasn't sure she had understood them all – but then again, he didn't understand everything he knew by heart. The sound of Lord Byron was a mighty aphrodisiac. And she would never tell Daniel she'd met him for lunch. She'd never tell Daniel about the poems.

It was – easier than expected.

He might have to add another challenge to make it interesting. He possessed enough self insight to know how easily he was bored. He hadn't lied when he wrote she had given him the first intelligent conversation since he set foot in NY. It had only been like some 20 hours, but he often left without having spoken about anything that mattered, about anything real.

He'd noticed she wasn't really ugly. Her bone structure was good, she had great colors. She was on the chubby side, but in the right wrapping, her figure could be referred to as curvy rather than chubby. And the glasses had to go.

Becks estimated he'd need 24 hours to transform little Betty into a stunning looker it would be a pleasure to undress and caress and – senselessly enjoy for at least a whole night.

And Daniel would have to pay him that dollar when Becks made sure he walked in on them in the act.

- Transforming Betty, he mumbled to himself. – Seducing Betty. Eventually - saving Daniel.


	4. Chapter 4

- What does it mean when a man sends me a card saying I have an appointment for massage and a facial at a spa – in like 3 hours from now?

Betty was confused, and she consulted the closest expertise on the matter Men; Christina.

Her friend went straight to the chore of the issue.

- What man? You seeing men without telling me? In case not, if it's Daniel, he appreciates the hard work you do and wants to pamper you. If it's Daniel, tell him I want to go too. He owes me for all the years of hard work at Meade's.

- It's not Daniel, Betty answered, her voice lowering as she spied around the office, making sure no one came close enough to listen. They had searched the rooms for hidden microphones last week. None found. Daniel was a bit paranoid after some episodes with Wilhelmina in the past. She worked with him these days, but you could never be sure when it came to her. Daniel preferred to be on the safe side.

- You really are seeing _men_?

Christina was lost for words. She couldn't remember when Betty had been out on a real date. She would always say she had this plan, and there was no time for men, but Christina knew better. Betty had burnt herself solid. Wounds maybe scarred by now, but they still hurt.

- Men who spoil you and pamper you with massage and spa treatments!

- It is _nothing_ like that! Betty insisted. – It's just – it's just a facial and a massage. And it's no one, I assure you – it is _no one_. But what does it mean when someone does this for you? For me. You know what I'm saying. What does he think?

- It means he's someone.

Christina translated the secret language of men. By all _lochs_ in Scotland, she was no expert, but she had been married. And she had been around. All the way from Europe to NY and back and forth a couple of times. And she wasn't as blue eyed as her brown eyed friend.

– That, Betty, darling, means he sure wants to be someone. Not only is he a man who understands what a woman wants – I say; massage and spa! She sighed. - He wants to be noticed in your life. You sure this isn't Daniel, pet?

- It isn't Daniel, Betty repeated and never heard the undertone in her friend's voice.

She had hoped Christina would tell her this was a giggle. An innocent joke of sorts. That all men dropped such gifts – that it didn't matter. Her gut feeling had said otherwise, of course, but she didn't trust her gut when it came to men. Her gut craved for sundried tomatoes, and she didn't even get pickled fries. Christina had more experience with men. She was supposed to understand their weird codes.

- Well, whoever he is, the man you're not telling me – your best friend, about, he's worth keeping, doll. He knows you are swamped in work today, darling, and he finds a way to lower your stress level. He is in fashion, isn't he?

Betty decided she couldn't tell Christina it was Becks. She knew exactly which reaction she'd get.

- Nay – he can't be in fashion, Christina decided, giving it a brief thought. -No straight guys left – Daniel being the strange one, proving the rule. But if he doesn't show interest in any woman soon, well, he could make me wonder, you know what I'm saying?

- Daniel loves women. Betty automatically defended her boss. Not that it was anything wrong being gay. But Daniel was straight through and through.

- You say so. You know the guy.

Betty felt a small tinkle in her heart. _The guy_. Christina kept talking. She talked about the dresses. The models. The insanity of the models. She talked about the insanity of the stylists. She talked about how nervous she was.

- I have a heart attack thinking about it. Girls on the runway. Me keeling over. You must be there and hold my hand, darling.

No one else could say _darling_ the way Christina did. The Scottish r-s rolled like rocks downhills towards a quiet _loch_.

- I'll give you a dress, bonnie lass. I have a fantastic dress for you, darling. You inspired it. All my little mice made it just for you, Cinderella. But you must hold my hand when I send out the blasted models, or I'll goddamn faint. It's a lovely dress. Lovely! You can bring massage guy. He can rub my neck.

That would never happen!

Becks would love it, needless to say. Maybe. Or maybe he would detest it. He was used to the beautiful women. Why would he want to be seen at Fashion Week with her?

Betty however, could visualize that. Her great entrance: In Christina's design, on Becks' arm. She could end up in the papers. And Amanda would be so jealous and utterly shocked, that she wouldn't be able to close her mouth the first hour after she had spotted them. Human fly trap. Betty could have enjoyed that moment. But taking Becks, meant hanging out with him for hours. Or, worse, that he dumped her after five minutes. A fashion show was familiar ground to Becks. She'd hate to let Amanda see him dump her. She had been humiliated in Amanda's presence often enough to last a lifetime.

And how would she invite him?

- You still there, love? Christina worried. – Big silence. I thought the line was dead.

- I'll of course be there for you, silly, Betty said, escaping from the hair-raising flash she had just had.

- But no massage guy?

- No massage… Betty interrupted herself. She wasn't able to say the word. Christina shouldn't be. She knew the full story. She knew everything. Christina couldn't believe everything was buried and forgotten, that Betty was over it all.

- But promise me you take advantage of that massage, bonnie Betty. I'd jump at any man who offered me massage right now – even if he provided it with his own bare hands!

– Awk!

Betty couldn't help it.

- I'm bloody serious here, pet, Christina laughed. – And you know I'll figure out who he is. Sooner or later. You can't keep secrets from me, darling.

- Have to go. Thanks for listening! Thanks for advice!

Betty ended the conversation abruptly, before accidentally blurping out with massage guy's identity. Ooops! She didn't intend to adopt that ridiculous name, but it already was nailed to the darker parts of her brain. She'd have to shake Christina for giving her visions she didn't need. But maybe not till after she had seen that dress. She could get used to couture.

_Why_ was Becks being nice to her?

He of course knew she worked hard for Daniel – even harder this week of all weeks from hell, but why would he care? It wasn't his nature. He had already apologized for last night. He'd done more than that – roses and poetry and a very nice lunch. He'd been civil to her. He didn't need to do more. She grew suspicious. People hardly ever did anything for nothing. Men like Becks never did anything without expecting something in return.

The only person she knew with insight re Becks', was Daniel – and he was the only person Betty couldn't ask.

She so could do with the massage! And he wouldn't be there, would he? If he was, she could walk away. It wasn't like they handcuffed you once you entered. You could browse and see if it was a decent enough place – you could make sure a certain globetrotting massage guy didn't lurk in the background…

She had to erase _massage guy_ out of her active vocabulary!

Her back ached, her shoulders were stiff. The stretching she did every two hours didn't help. Temptation got the better off her a few hours later.

- I'm off for like an hour, she told Daniel in a very casual way, like this was something she did every day, or at least once a week. – Most things covered now, and I'll be back and work longer this eve.

- Family situation? Daniel's brows lifted, he sounded both sympathetic and interested. – Anything I can help with?

Betty smiled.

- I'm just having a massage.

He stared at her in disbelief, and she fled before he found the words he lots for an instant when he believed he did hear Betty say she was having a massage.

She took the offer. Of course she did. She was a woman.

Becks smiled from across the street of the Meade building where he had been standing, not really hiding, but making sure not to be seen, for the last fifteen minutes. She only had to run two blocks down. He'd chosen the closest spa. Had she been any other woman, he would have provided a car for her. That would have made Betty back out. Oh, he had her figured out. All women were the same.

Hands in pockets he crossed the street and entered the Meade kingdom. He walked into Daniel's office less than ten minutes after Betty had left. Daniel didn't see any connection.

- You have sacked your PA? Because of me? That's too much, Danny boy, Becks' joked and fell into Daniel's couch. – Your talking, smiling, moving decoration by the entrance came with a very inappropriate suggestion to me – you should rather sack her.

- I haven't and won't sack Betty – or Amanda for that matter, Daniel allowed himself to get irritated.

- So where is she?

Becks made a point of looking for Betty.

- You haven't hid her under your desk, keeping her as your sex slave? I have heard stories about bosses and secretaries...

- You have a very filthy imagination.

Daniel's cheeks flushed in anger. Becks preferred that explanation. He moved his hands in what could be mistaken for a gesture of honest excuse.

- Sorry! Didn't know you were such a delicate softie. Sorry!

Daniel knew him too well to buy that. He disliked Becks' sense of humor. He disliked Becks' making Betty part of that. He disliked Becks' talking of Betty. He disliked Becks even thinking of Betty.

- Betty went for a massage, he said. – Not that it's any of your concern…

- Massage? You do spoil your workers, Danny! I might consider getting employed here – with all the extras you provide your employees with. Massages! You're a true saint, Mr. Meade!

- What are you doing here? Daniel asked impatiently. – I told you to stay away from here, from Betty... I work here. Don't need you stalking my employees, harassing them…

- Got bored, Becks' said. – No chance of you having a beer with me? Or do I have to hit the bars alone?

- I work, Becks. Do I have to spell that?

- I understand. You keep on working, Danny boy.

Becks closed his eyes and folded his hands in front of his chest.

- I'll have a little nap here while you work. If you feel really generous, I could need a little back rub…

- Shut up, Daniel said.

Betty felt a new woman when she returned. She had never really tried massage earlier. Well, she'd been to spa, chaperoning Claire in the days Daniel's mother still drank. But then Betty hadn't been familiar with the different types of massage. The ones she had chosen, she would not recommend for anyone, not even Wilhelmina.

Clearly Becks knew what could ease sore muscles and leave you relaxed and renewed. She had bounced all the way from the spa, danced rather than walked, and she was sure she blushed with joy when she entered Mode. Not even the white and black interior, that usually made her feel a stranger at her own work place, managed to ruin her moods.

- Aren't you a little Miss Sunshine, Amanda commented as Betty passed her cubicle.

- You look so good in grey, Amanda, Betty responded – and left Amanda wondering what was going on.

Betty didn't notice sarcasm. Betty smiled – and sort of skipped trough the corridor. She looked different. Amanda would have to phone Marc and discuss this. Betty of course was a midget in the whole Mode picture, but she could not dance all over smiling foolishly and throwing compliments when people tried to embarrass her. That wasn't how they interacted at Mode. She ruined the fine balance they all were used to.

- Hey – you did enjoy that massage, Daniel smiled as she danced to her desk, threw herself in her chair and swirled it round a couple of times.

- It was fantastic, she sighed and pushed her glasses back in place. – Where do I begin? She said I have flawless skin – the beautician.

Betty giggled.

- I have a beautician, how amazing is that? Anyways, she commented my skin as flawless with a beautiful tone, and she recommended some shades that will work for me. Never thought brown and fuchsia don't match. Or lime and brown and violet – I think that is quite hefty for you, but she said those colors do nothing for me – together, I mean, and then this man with these insanely warm hands came…

- A man massaged you?

Daniel grimaced.

Betty's laughter was full of clear bells to his ears.

- Oh, Daniel – you should see yourself! You crack me up! We don't live in the stone ages! He was a professional, right? And it wasn't like we were alone in the room. My beautician was there all the time. I love the sound of that; my beautician. She did lots of lovely stuff to my face – she said even flawless skin needs treatment, and I swear it was like I was a queen or something – it was relaxing. Divine. Out of another world. I fell asleep in the middle of it. They had to wake me when I was supposed to turn – so he could massage my back as well…

- Uhrm – up to this moment, he – the professional, had massaged your front part?

Betty wanted to thump Daniel's head. Had he been a woman he would have listened and understood what she was talking about. But he would rather turn this spiritually lifting episode into something filthy and sexually loaded. There had been no sex involved. Men!

- It was a very professional and comfortable experience, despite your suggesting otherwise.

She lifted her nose.

- Sure.

Daniel understood he had offended her, which hadn't been his intention. The vision had struck him – and he wasn't able to get rid of it. Annoying, but he was only human, wasn't he? He didn't want bad things to happen to Betty. He was her protector, her fake big brother. He was supposed to look after her. To make sure no one took advantage of her, professional masseurs included.

- And it did me very good.

- Sure. Daniel grinned. - I can see it did you good. You are – glowing!

As soon as he had uttered the compliment, Daniel recalled that pregnant women glowed. He wasn't used to complimenting Betty. But she was – glowing.

- It's the flawless skin… a voice suggested.

Betty was glad she was seated.

Becks rose from the couch – she hadn't noticed he was there, and Daniel hadn't done or said anything to warn her. She could have killed Daniel Becks smiled from ear to ear. He whistled in admiration – or whatever. She could have killed him as well.

- Your beautician is right, Betty. And there is a shine, a light, Daniel – but glowing? Isn't that a few steps into the future?

Betty wanted to slap them both. She didn't enjoy being stared at. They could take their big eyes and look at women who appreciated and craved attention. There were thousands of them just outside the front door.

- Massage in the middle of a workday, Becks said, still grinning. – And Daniel says it wasn't his idea. My, my, you surprise me. I didn't know you were such a luxury kitten.

She had to smile or everything would be revealed for Daniel. Becks seemed to be enjoying the situation. This was a _sitch_ if she ever had been in one! Becks knew well who had persuaded her!

- Well, I know how to enjoy myself. Surprise finding you here, Mr. Scott. I would have thought you were busy enjoying the finer arts. Flowers, cuisine, poetry…

She didn't tremble before his very eyes. She provided sarcasms.

- Becks wouldn't know finer art if it jumped up and bit his ass, Daniel said dryly. – He was just leaving.

- I was?

- You were!

- Three obviously is a crowd, Becks said and winked an eye as he strolled past Betty. – Lovely skin. Nice brows.

Betty lifted one. A man who noticed that her brows had been picked? That was the only visual damage she had let the beautician do. Aside from showing her which colors would lift her and which wouldn't. Daniel hadn't noticed the brows. He was too busy having filthy thoughts.

- If it takes massage to make you happy, you should have an hour off for massage daily, Daniel stated. – I wanted to kick him out before you returned, by the way …

- It doesn't hurt me to see Mr.Scott, Betty said. – I'm not a child, Daniel. I am a grown woman and fully capable of looking after myself.

- But you don't have to, Betty. I am here.


	5. Chapter 5

Betty had been sure something would happen after Daniel dropped her off outside her apartment building. She had no idea of what, it just itched her: Something had to happen. Something concerning Becks.

Beckett. Mr. Scott.

He had invaded her life in less than twenty-four hours. Where ever she turned, he was there. When he wasn't, she expected to see him - soon. He popped up in her thoughts. During the massage she had dozed off for a few minutes – and Becks had walked straight into her dream. Black silhouette against a sunset. A total teenage fantasy. A cliché. Dark shape strolling towards her, self confident, self assured, moving like he had no worry in the world. Moving like…

Stop, Betty!

She wasn't going there.

The past was past. It couldn't be relived or changed.

She wasn't able to analyze his behavior when she returned from the spa. He could have told Daniel it all was his idea. He could have showed Daniel what a silly, silly person she was. She allowed a shallow man to give her silly, superficial presents. She enjoyed them – even if she knew she should have returned both the flowers, the collection of poetry and she should never have gone to the spa. He was a man. He didn't shower a woman in presents just because he was nice. She had seen this all too many times. In those fairy tales her sister Hilda was the one who got the presents. She had always had to pay for them. Nothing ever came without a price tag. There were no happy endings. There were no fairy tales – not in real life.

She liked the cleft in his chin.

It wasn't quite as charming as dimples. God, she liked dimples!

He was a blonde. She didn't like blondes. He had blue eyes. She didn't care that much for blue eyes. He was tall. She didn't go for tall guys.

She didn't care for attitude, that total self awareness, the macho egoism, the immature competitive side, the want to dominate, how he didn't listen, how every challenge set him off like a greyhound on a race track.

She didn't like Beckett Scott. Periode.

He only toyed her around. She still didn't know why, but she would figure that out. Besides – there wouldn't be more pressies. He had had his fun. The fashion shows started tomorrow. Becks would be too busy chasing the big game, and he'd forget her name was Betty and call her Melanie. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was nice to be seen. Recognized – if that was what he was doing. Flirting was fun – as long as it didn't go serious.

Betty was out of _Papi_'s cupcakes. They would have eased some of the doubt and fear. She was a comfort eater. She was an_ eater_. She was aware of that. Betty suddenly craved for black and white cookies.

She resisted the urge. Better crawl up in the chair and read some Lord Byron.

Daniel had slept poorly. Becks hadn't moved out of his flat. Becks hadn't been out all night. That was his major worry. Becks hadn't seemed interested in going out. He had talked about women and had reminisced former Fashion Weeks, referring to them as The Classic Stories. But he hadn't been up to making new classics.

Which was unlike Becks. Out of character.

He hadn't behaved like Becks this time around – not since, well, not since that night in Betty's apartment. All Daniel had seen since had been a new Becks. He didn't believe in such transformations. There was no before and after; Becks had long ago found his role.

He had told him – he had ordered him to stay away from Betty.

Becks hated to be commanded. He was lousy at taking orders. There was a reason why he was freelancing. Becks wouldn't have survived a boss in a normal work relationship in two seconds. Correction: any boss wouldn't have survived Becks in two seconds.

Becks couldn't see this as a challenge?

He truly couldn't see Betty as a challenge?

It somehow made sense. Daniel says _no Betty_, and Becks clams up and acts secretive, out of character.

And Betty goes for a massage.

OK, Becks hardly had anything to do with that. Daniel wasn't paranoid.

The massage obviously had been good for her. She had been the picture of an _after_ when she returned to the office. He knew the glowing word obviously wasn't descriptive, it might even be offending, but he had seen her glowing. He liked the word. Daniel couldn't help smiling.

- What's that smirk for? Becks asked.

- Nothing. Nothing at all.

- Your kid coming tomorrow?

- Mm, Daniel confirmed. – You are not to corrupt DJ.

- Don't have to. You're his father. Remember? Alexis is his auntie-uncle. That kid has a full plate already.

- Not one more word. Daniel lifted a finger.

- Do I sense hostility? Becks grinned. – You get agro quite often these days. Do you think you need an anger management course?

- I don't like anyone attacking my family, said Daniel. – My loved ones are – special to me.

Becks smiled broadly.

- Man, you should listen to yourself! I have problems understanding I am speaking to my mate Daniel. Daniel Meade, the family man. Daniel Meade – eagerly protecting his loved ones. Don't touch my family, says Danny Meade, former horny model chaser.

- Things have changed. I told you.

Becks placed his right hand over his heart, like he was saluting the flag.

- I swear I will not touch or offend or hurt any member of your family. Your precious boy will corrupt himself – it's all in the genes!

Daniel threw a pillow after Becks, who ducked.

Becks didn't say a word about Betty. Daniel didn't mention Betty – which was far more worrying. Becks was talking on behalf of all bachelors of the world. Daniel subconsciously saw Betty as family. Obviously. And he wasn't aware of that.

- Busy day tomorrow, huh?

- You wouldn't understand.

- I do understand the concept of work, Becks replied. – I take it there won't be any employees of yours taking massages tomorrow.

- Don't even go there!

Becks didn't intend to.

- I am bored, he said. – I could photograph. Your show. Backstage. Guests. You could use the pics or not. In any of your mags. Or not. You could use any photo as your Christmas card for all I care.

- Because you're bored?

Daniel didn't believe his ears. Last time he had hired Becks to work for him, it had cost him an arm and a leg and an extra bonus. The photos had been brilliant, though. Becks knew what he was doing.

- Slightly.

- Ok. You get paid if we use any. If not, this is strictly recreational.

Later Daniel couldn't help thinking it had all been too easy.

Betty had been up since 5am. She had been at work at 7 sharp. No flowers, no presents, no surprises. Not even a coffee to cheer her up. Nothing before she found Becks chatting and flirting with Christina, reducing Christina's stress level big time as she tried to sew a seam some of the assistants had torn while hanging the dresses in the correct order.

- Hey, you, she said.

- Surprised to see me? He pointed the objective at her.

Betty hid behind her hair. Surprised didn't even begin to describe it.

- Becks is doing a backstage photo shoot for Daniel, Christina explained, pins between her teeth, making the s-es sound hissing.

- Is he now?

- Life behind a fashion show, he said. – Nothing revolutionary new, but still interesting for the masses who never set foot in this world of glamour and style.

Becks took another fifteen photos of Betty, making her feel fifteen times more uncomfortable than before she spotted him.

- Stop it, she said. – I'm not a part of that world of glamour and style. I work here! And you are distracting me. You are distracting Christina…

- Oh, but he's not!

Christina had placed all the pins where they should be, and gave Becks one of her biggest smiles. Christina had this habit of befriending all sorts of people. She fell for men Betty wouldn't have looked at twice. Well, she never let anyone walk over her, but she kissed a lot of frogs. And she didn't discriminate – she had a thing for handsome hunks too. Like Becks.

- He's been ever so helpful and has totally saved my sanity. This Ken doll even fetched me a bagel and a coffee. I was going nuts here. Blood sugar hitting the lows. Desperation strangling me. Me about to strangle whoever came in my way. It could have ended up ugly.

Betty rolled her eyes in Becks' direction. He snapped some more pictures. Smiling.

- I can be helpful, he insisted. – They say I'm good with my hands.

- I doubt, Betty said. – Not to me anyway. I'd be grateful if you stay out of my way today. It'll take more than bagels and coffee to save my sanity if I lose it.

- Massage? he mimed.

Christina was an awesome lip reader. Her eyes widened. Partly in horror. Betty fled. Christina had to fix the dress, she just couldn't follow her. Becks didn't have anything holding him back. He followed her.

- Go away, Betty said, not looking at him. – I have tons to do.

- And I am distracting you?

He was.

And Betty suddenly knew who he reminded her of. It hit like a ton of bricks, and she had a ton more reasons why she should never, never_, never_ get involved with Beckett Scott. She pulled herself together.

- I don't care what kind of job you have talked Daniel into giving you – do that job and stay out of my way!

- But I thought we were friends, Betty!

Phil Roth would have detested that line. No check-up line. Becks should have tried offending her.

She found strength to look straight into those ice blue eyes.

- I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Beckett, she said very calmly, - but I refuse to be part of it. Get me? It was nice of you to send the flowers. The lunch was – interesting. You can behave like a civilized human being. I am convinced. And the poetry is awesome. As was the massage – but it stops here. Right here. We aren't friends, Becks. We're barely acquainted, and let us leave it there. Stop following me. Stop sending me things. Stop – whatever you're doing. And stop photographing me, or I won't answer for my actions.

Becks lowered the camera.

- OK, he said.

Betty sighed with relief.

Becks bent slightly, brushed a light kiss across Betty's lips – and left.

- I saw that!

Christina grabbed Betty by the arm and sat her down in a chair.

- _He_ is massage guy? Becks? Oh, bonnie lass, what are you up to? No,no! No. No. No. No, Betty! He's an animal. He's worse than a dog. He's that Giovanni times fifty, and you know how it ended that time. I won't let you destroy yourself. I so won't shovel up the pieces of your broken heart when this guy leaves. And he will. We have done this before, pet, remember?

- Becks is nothing like Gio, Betty said. – I won't speak of Gio.

Christina didn't push her. She had been around pre Gio and post Gio. Betty had survived, not without scars, but she had survived.

- This is nothing.

- But he _is_ massage guy?

- He gave me the massage, Betty said, immediately correcting the line. - He paid for the massage. He has been a jerk, the usual Becks. Don't have me explain. I'll tell you later. And he has been nice. Like he's someone else.

- Yes?

- When you couldn't meet me for lunch – we ran into each other. And he invited me for lunch – or we had lunch together, it was outside the restaurant, we lunched inside, of course, and it seemed OK. I needed to eat. But it wasn't like a date. We hadn't planned it, right? So – he paid for it, but it would have ruined my budget had I insisted on paying my half. Do you know how expensive oysters are? I didn't know they tasted so well…

- You had oysters with Becks?

- Well, yes. Betty was defensive. – But no champagne! We had beer. He recited Lord Byron.

- He recited Lord Byron?

- Don't repeat all I say!

- You leave me lost for words, Christina admitted. – What other secrets do you have? You haven't slept with him, have you?

- No.

Betty impersonated a tomato. But he has been naked in her bed. Christina didn't need to know that. Betty hadn't seen him naked in her bed. It practically hadn't happened. She had washed the bedspread – and still considered buying a new one.

- You want to?

Betty felt even warmer.

- No!

- You're fibbing. You want to. Don't! Listen to me: Don't go to bed with Becks! Get a gun. Hire a bodyguard. But don't go to bed with Becks! Don't do it anywhere else for that matter.

- Christina!

- Believe me, that man has done it everywhere. With hundreds of woman. Thousands. You don't want to end up in that archive. Promise me you'll stay sane here, babe!

- I won't go to bed with Becks, Betty promised, and flushed a little more for every word Christina made her say.

- Does Daniel know about this?

Christina was suspicious.

- No, and you are not telling him! You are _not_!

Christina gave in. Daniel should be informed. Daniel was Becks' mate and knew what he was capable of. Daniel would dislike Becks' interest in Betty just as much as Christina did. Possibly more. But Betty's emotions confused Christina.

The lady protested too much.

Betty liked Becks. She was interested, Christina could tell. And the weirdest part was that there had been something from his side as well. There was a sparkle. Christina wanted to jump up and down on it till it was nothing but ashes, but it was Betty's life – and it was Betty's sweet and gentle heart at stake here.

She would have to look out for Betty. Make sure that dog didn't hurt her friend.

- I want you backstage with me and not in the audience as the show starts, Christina demanded.

- Sure, girlfriend.

- It's that dress, remember?

Betty nodded. She hadn't really given the dress a thought the last hours.

Christina looked at her friend. God, Betty still was – innocent, naïve, blue eyed, sweet, all too nice – she believed people wanted her well. She still saw the best in everybody. She was the kind who smiled at the world, got a Wellie in the gut and smiled all the same. Time after another.

Christina decided Becks wasn't right for Betty. There might be a genuine sparkle, but Becks would go tired of Betty eventually. It was written in the stars, one didn't have to be clairvoyant to see that much.

Christina decided Becks wouldn't get a chance to hurt her Betty.


	6. Chapter 6

Daniel had a massage.

He told himself he needed it. He was stressed. He was under vast pressure. He had immense responsibility and needed a break in his busy schedule. Plus he had a chance to check out the goon who had touched Betty, front and back, yesterday. He didn't take her word for the man being a professional. She would say anything to ease him.

Massage guy was no threat. To Betty. Massage guy was absolutely no threat to Betty. Daniel could smell the guy was gay. And Betty had never liked the wiry, spiked blonde guys with barb wire tattoos. Betty liked – dark guys. Walter, Henry, Gio… all dark guys. Jesse – not dark. But nothing like massage guy. No barb wire tattoos, as far as Daniel could remember. Who else were there? Not many. No one serious. A few dates. Various collection of fellas he couldn't visualize. He hadn't paid so much attention to her love life.

Massage guy worked wonders.

Office felt empty. Daniel realized it was because Betty wasn't there. He wanted to tell her how awesome the massage was. She had to be in the showroom.

Daniel smiled. He smiled a lot these days. Life wasn't bad. He figured Fashion Week would be a hoot for them this year. And the high would continue. He could go on smiling. He just needed to get rid of Becks. Wasn't there any wars going on anywhere? There always was, and Becks always felt an urge to cover these. Now was a great time for a scoop. National Geographic would applaud. He would applaud.

He spotted Betty before she saw him. Busy as always. Rushing into the room. He was about to call out her name when he saw Becks following her, and Daniel hid behind a door. He could follow what happened – neither she nor Becks would notice him peaking.

She turned, and Daniel could see how angry she was. Good! She gave Becks a good scolding. Betty knew how to handle them!

Daniel was proud of her.

Becks photographed. He made a point out of it. Daniel realized he had been manipulated. Bored, his ass! Becks had found a way to get near Betty – with Daniel's permission. And he couldn't possibly make more drama and pull him out of the showroom by his hair.

Betty spoke.

Daniel wished he could hear what she said. It somehow reached Becks. He backed out.

And he kissed her.

Daniel couldn't breathe for a second. He clenched his fists. His eye had just recovered. He couldn't leap out at Becks again. She didn't seem to mind the kiss. She stood like in – awe. And he wanted to shake her out of the magic spell – but she would hate to know he'd seen the kiss. He hated the mere thought of it.

Luckily Christina was there.

- I saw that! she yelled, never giving Betty a chance to reply before she asked: – _He_ is massage guy?

_He is massage guy? _

Daniel felt his knees weaken. Massage guy? Becks? Well, he couldn't be. He had napped in Daniel's office while Betty was out for the massage.

Daniel stumbled out to the streets and the chilly air. He saw imaginary flashes of Becks massaging Betty. They were impossible to escape. The puzzle was impossible. Or maybe not. It actually made sense.

Becks had given in. Becks _never _gave in. Becks had forgotten about the challenge, he had stayed home with him when he could have been out chasing girls.

All out of character.

Which meant Becks hadn't given in. He hadn't listened to a word Daniel had said. He hadn't given up on the challenge. He hadn't stayed away from Betty. Becks had made his evil twist – Betty was his challenge!

The roses – he had suggested Becks to send her roses. And she had liked them. Daniel had caught her gazing at them more than once, thoughtfully touching them, but he hadn't thought any more of it. He believed Betty was too smart to fall for the fake crap Becks had to offer. He believed she saw through that. She had seen him do it all – too often…

The roses and the massage. Sweet gifts. Sweet, thoughtful gifts Betty would appreciate. There had to be more. Roses wouldn't buy her. Wouldn't sway her.

Daniel ran back to the office. He was sure he looked like a madman, but didn't care. He had to know what he was up to before he accused Becks. He had to do it without hurting Betty. She was the victim in this. Becks was a rattle snake. Why didn't Adam get rid of all snakes when he had a chance, way back in the Garden of Eden?

He searched Betty's desk. He pulled out all drawers. He didn't care that people stared at him. He was one third of Meade Publications. He could do what he wanted within the Meade walls. He found the card that had followed the flowers. Had to be. It was Becks' handwriting. He had bothered to walk to a florist's and write the card that followed the roses.

"_Respectfully. Beckett S". _

Daniel crushed the card in his hand and let it fall to the floor. He found the collection of poetry. Lord Byron?

Becks had seen Betty and talked with her. Intelligent conversation? Daniel remembered how Becks didn't show up for lunch. He had found Betty. He had taken her to lunch while Daniel thought she was out with Christina. He remembered the courier. How she hid something under his desk and blushed. The book, of course. The supposedly honest words in Beckett's writing must have hit Betty's innocent heart like a scud rocket.

He would strangle Becks when he saw him.

Roses, poetry and massage.

Beckett had solved the Betty code. Becks had kissed her and she had let that happen. She hadn't slapped his face. Becks had left her – speechless. Daniel thought he remembered a smile on her lips. The lips Becks had kissed.

Was he losing Betty?

Pain through his brain. Pain through his chest. Losing Betty? The thought was impossible to comprehend.

More fantasy flashes: Betty giggling showing off an engagement ring. Bachelor party. Becks would expect him to throw it. Betty walking the aisle towards him. Becks would want him as best man. Her big, bright, happy smile was a knife through his heart. Betty in Becks' arms. More Betty in Becks' arms.

Alternatively: Becks brushing Betty off her feet. Betty blushing. Whilrlwind romance lasting a full day and night. Or a week. Or a month. Becks dumping her once he had proven his point.

Daniel twisted a paperclip, bent and twisted and ended up with a ring.

He bent his neck in agony. His subconscious knew. He just hadn't dared face the truth. God, what a fool he was!

- I can't undress in public! Betty protested.

Christina didn't listen.

- If you don't hurry, pet, I'll have to drag you with me on the runway in your undies, and I swear that will be more embarrassing.

- I'm not entering the runway!

- Oh, but you are. You promised to hold my hand! And you better get into that dress before that kissing photojourno is back. Don't want him to portray you in knickers and bra!

Betty didn't.

She had imagined she'd put on the dress later. For the party. Christina had other ideas. She let the dressers undress and dress her, and Betty hated every second of it. She felt uncomfortable between the slim, long legged models with expressionless, blasé faces. This was nothing to them. They didn't care who saw them in their underwear. So far no one Betty didn't know had seen her in hers…

- Color is great for you, honey, one of the dressers said.

- Um – isn't it like too red? Betty asked.

- No, the dresser said.

- No, said Christina, in stylish black. – Red is perfect for you, doll. Everybody notices the girl in red. She is always asked to dance.

Betty didn't know if she really wanted to be noticed by everybody. But she liked to dance. She hadn't seen Becks dance, but assumed he did. Well. Fellas from his world, fellas of his class, always knew how to behave and how to chit chat and how to dance and which fork to use when and for what. It came so easy for guys like Becks and Daniel.

If no one else asked her to dance, Daniel would.

- Red. Um, is it really – like me? Isn't it a provoking color?

- It is power, Christina grinned. – Girl power. I have some stunning red Valentino's with heels that will give you even more power. _Stiletto_ is Italian for dagger, did you know?

Betty didn't want to learn more Italian glossary.

- Makes sense, Christina said as the dress was fitted perfectly. – You can kill with a stiletto. It gives her strength. Makes a woman stand taller. Makes her walk like a goddess, providing she's smart enough to tighten her tummy muscles and not bend her knees too much. Goddess walk; tummy and knees! Remember! Stilettos make a woman graceful and strong.

- Makes her stumble and fall like a clown, Betty continued.

- Nonsense. Now your hair and makeup!

Christina commanded Betty to sit down. That was hard as the dress didn't allow her to widen her lungs much, and the stylist removed her glasses so she didn't see what was going on. It involved kohl and shadows and mascara and foundations and lipstick and hairspray – and she feared the result, having volunteered as a test rabbit for her sister one too many times.

The result wasn't scary. She looked herself. The colors were – her colors. Her hair was up. Not the dramatic Hilda-way, just casually. It was nice. And no one said she had to take off the glasses. Betty realized the dress matched her glasses, and a rush of love for Christina filled her.

- You haven't made me be someone else, she said in relief.

- Why would I? You are quite perfect as you are, Christina smiled. – You don't think it's too bare?

Betty looked down and blushed. She did show a lot of cleavage. Even Hilda would call it dary, but all the same it wasn't trashy. It was stylish. But she feared something could – fall out.

- Erhm – a bit naked, yes. Maybe a shawl?

- Later, Christina winked an eye. – I have a lovely shawl in cashmere wool, in my clan pattern. If I give it to you, we are practically blood sisters, you know. You'll be Scottish, darling.

-I'd love to be Scottish, Betty said, hugging her friend.

- Later, now you only have to be a hottie!

Model after model entered the catwalk. Christina's collection was a success. The applause reached them backstage, and Betty found herself jumping up and down. She was immensely happy to be sharing this moment with Christina. This was her big break trough. She could sense that. After today everybody in the fashion world know Christina's name.

The last model had done her mechanic trotting. Christina grabbed Betty's arm.

- Come on, darling!

- I can't!

Betty wasn't ready to meet an audience. She loved her dress. But it was very revealing. The silk fondled her body. It was a glove, yet she could walk in it – barely. It was classic and showed temper, it lifted and draped and showed a body Betty never had seen in her mirror. It was her – and still a stranger.

- I have no shoes!

- Where are the blasted Valentino's? Christina yelled so loud they had to hear her in the audience.

No one found the shoes, and Christina knew she couldn't drag it out. She clasped Betty's hand and walked out on the catwalk with her.

- Smile, darling, she whispered. – Smile!

Daniel was very aware of the empty chair next to his. DJ was wide eyed by his other side. Smile would have gone all the way round his skull hadn't his ears been there. Daniel felt the weight of parental conscience, of responsibility.

And his heart ached.

Beckett wasn't backstage – where Betty was. Beckett was all over, photographing every model from all angles, photographing the most important of the very important among the audience. Beckett was professional.

_Massage guy._

Christina had wanted Betty backstage. He had wanted Betty next to him – but Christina was Betty's best friend. He had backed out. It was the decent thing to do. He hadn't seen her since he had witnessed her kiss Becks. He had spoken with Christina. She wouldn't let him backstage. Becks had been backstage. Daniel was aching within.

Was she kissing Becks earlier? Was that why Christina didn't let him come there?

Beckett moved among the audience. He wasn't anywhere near Betty anylonger. Daniel could breathe.

Becks had moved rapidly. There couldn't be many more gifts before he made the final move. Becks in Betty's apartment. Becks back in Betty's bed. This time welcomed. This time invited – not out of pity…

Daniel didn't want to think. He didn't need these fantasies. They were tormenting.

- Dad, you look real mad, DJ said, brows pulled together. – You don't like the collection, _non_? You don't think the models are pretty?

- Collection is fine, Daniel breathed. – My tie is a bit narrow.

- The models are very beautiful, DJ said in a knowing tone. – I liked the red head.

Daniel grinned. He didn't remember any red head. He didn't remember any of the models – or the clothes for that matter. Nut if DJ liked what he saw, it had to be good. His son had inherited the eye for style and beauty - from his mother.

They waited for Christina. The pause was lengthy.

- Hey, that's Betty, DJ said and pointed. – I didn't know she had such a figure!

Daniel forced his jaws together. He wasn't really surprised, but noticed Becks was. He saw his friend closing up on Betty and Christina as they walked the runway to the standing ovations. Becks had his camera almost touching Betty. She was bare feet.

He swallowed, he saw the recognition in Beckett's eyes – and he knew it wasn't as real as his own emotions. Daniel had never been impulsive when he faced something important, when he had to close up on something real. He had never dared take chances in his personal life. He had drifted and off and on been saved by his mother – and in younger years by his father. He had never dared leap – as he was afraid of being hurt. Rejected. Left alone.

This time he didn't think.

Becks was impulsive. Becks didn't care. Most of all: Becks didn't care about Betty.

He jumped up on the runway. He walked towards Christina and Betty. The audience thought this was planned. They applauded even more. Daniel paused just in front of them. He fell to one knee and fumbled in his pockets. He was a fool. He knew he was a fool, but better a fool than never tell her what he felt.

- Betty, he said, - I love you. Will you marry me?

He held the paper clip ring between his fingers, he presented it like it was a huge diamond, and he risked her believing it was a joke. But if she doubted his sincerity, they weren't meant to be anyway.

Her cheeks flushed. She pressed a hand to her bosom. She smiled. She breathed hard.

- I truly love you, he heard a voice stutter. – Truly. Madly. I just realized, an hour ago. Maybe two. When I was having a massage…

- You had a massage? she asked, astonished.

At least that wasn't a blunt no.

- I had a massage, and I wanted to tell you, and one thing took the other – and I understood I love you. That I have loved you a very long time. Maybe always. Well, I have obviously not loved you always, as I haven't known you always, but I have loved you – long. And I can't imagine any day without you. I want to be in your life. I want to love you. I want to hear your laughter and see your smile and talk to you every day. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you…

He breathed.

- What happened to your brows? he asked confused.

- Picked. Yesterday. At the spa?

- Massage guy picked them?

Betty grimaced. She and Christina exchanged glances.

- My beautician picked them.

Daniel could picture that. Tattooed massage guy with tweezers had been too odd a vision.

- You proposing, Daniel? Christina said, hands on hips. – You truly proposing?

He nodded. The knee deep position was slightly uncomfortable.

- And you love her – for real?

He nodded once more.

- What do you say, pet? Christina smiled at Betty. – I told you the girls in red get to dance, didn't I?

- Marry me, Betty! Daniel begged.

She seemed to think it through. He hoped she didn't need to consider it too long. His knee was hurting badly.

- Yes, she eventually said and held her left hand so he could slide the paper clip ring onto her finger.

Christina had to help him up. The audience was applauding. They continued clapping as Daniel kissed Betty and she kissed him back.

She made it into the newspapers. She made it into the limelight section where she showed the world the paper clip ring.

She smiled like someone had paid her to do so, and Daniel kissed her cheek and they looked absolutely silly and hundred per cent in love. It was funny – Betty hadn't realized she loved him till she saw him kneel in front of her with all those people watching. Then she was convinced it was right. Daniel was right. He was her best friend. He knew her better than anyone. They had no secrets – well practically no secrets the other knew nothing about.

She didn't need the madness the _machistos_ could offer her.

She smiled into Beck's camera.

She smiled at Daniel. She was convinced. This was it.

- I love you too, she told Daniel.

He of course insisted on buying her a real diamond. She wore it with pride, and she never parted with the paper clip ring.

Becks disappeared to some war zone. He stated he had seen it all coming. That he had made it happen. Beckett Scott – Cupid's little helper?

Yeah, right!


End file.
